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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29773590">one and lonely</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithsecrets/pseuds/sithsecrets'>sithsecrets</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Mild Smut, Reader-Insert, Sex, Strippers &amp; Strip Clubs, Stripping, Vaginal Sex, mando and reader go to a strip club, reader learns mando's name</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:22:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29773590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithsecrets/pseuds/sithsecrets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>you and din visit one of his old friends at a corellian strip club, and some doubt starts to creep in. in return, din gives you something nobody else has ever had: his name.</p><p>---</p><p>“That woman you met with tonight was nice,” you say slowly, trying to fish for information without being too obvious. You’d like to know if Mando knew her before tonight, and how he came to discover that club at all. There’s so much of his life that predates you, so much of his history that you’ll likely never know, and it’s times like these when that fact comes into sharp focus.</p><p>Mando doesn’t even raise his head. “She liked you.”</p><p>That makes you flush. “We didn’t even talk for five minutes.”</p><p>“She liked you anyway.” Finally, you earn yourself a glance. “Sypha’s just like that.”</p><p>Sypha. Even her name is sexy.</p><p>“You know her?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>one and lonely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In hindsight, you have no idea why you agreed to do this. It probably has a lot to do with the words Mando used, how he asked you and <em>when</em> he asked you.</p><p>“I know someone who can watch the baby,” he had said, murmuring in your ear under the cover of darkness. “I need you to come with me. Will you?”</p><p><em>Need</em>— that one little word is what made you say yes, heart jumping in your throat the second you heard it. And what a sound it was, dripping from Mando’s tongue raw, the static of the modulator not touching a single bit of the word. It’s like he knew you couldn’t say no to him then, not when he was naked and laid out beside you in the pitch-black hull, helmet off— no creed to abide by, no business to attend to, just <em>him</em>. Then he’s talking about needing your help, insinuating that he wants you to assist him bring in bringing in this bounty, and well… It hit all the right spots inside you, the raw ones that need gentle handling, and you said yes without second’s hesitation.</p><p>Since it all began, what you and Mando do together in the dark has felt vaguely unreal, the sex and the talking and the vulnerability of it all so foreign and ridiculous in the light of day. But you <em>this </em>right here, this <em>strip club</em> on <em>Corellia</em>? It’s realer than real, your senses overloaded by the sights and sounds, by the smells and textures. Your first instinct is to turn right back around, but Mando’s got you by the arm, gently leading you through the room.</p><p>“Find a table near the stage,” he tells you, speaking in your ear to be heard over the thudding, fast music. “I have to meet someone. Send me a comm <em>immediately </em>if you see the quarry, alright?”</p><p>All you can do is nod, distraught as Mando abandons you near the front of the club. You watch him walk away, colorful lights bouncing off the beskar as he goes, and then you do as you’re told, taking a seat at a table as far away from other patrons as possible.</p><p>Alone and completely out of your element, you have no idea how to act. You suppose you should try to blend in, but you feel shy watching the show. The women are half-naked and unbelievably beautiful, practically levitating as they perform onstage. You have no idea how they’re doing half of what they’re doing on their poles, and you envy their sex appeal, their confidence. You’d sooner die than give one of these patrons the time of day, but to watch them fawn over the dancers and give them money does make you feel just the slightest bit less-than. You could never be so bold as to work a job like this one, and the attention, well… Nobody’s ever going to look at you like that, not even the most desperate man, and you’re sure as hell never going to have anyone throwing credit after credit your way like it’s their honor to do so.</p><p>“It’s okay if you want to look, honey. Nobody’s going to judge you, not in here.”</p><p>The sound of a voice above you has you jolting in your seat, your train of thought crashing and then disappearing like it never existed in the first place. You look up to see who’s addressing you, only to find that it’s not a someone at all, but a <em>goddess</em>. Never in your whole life have you been this close to someone so gorgeous, and you finally understand what it means to be struck speechless by a person’s beauty.</p><p>The woman seems to sense what you’re feeling, and a small, almost satisfied smile creeps over her perfectly painted mouth. She leans down, her curtain of thick, silky red hair swinging, and you catch the scent of something spicy all around her. Perfume, you think, but not the cheap kind. “Are you here all by yourself, baby?”</p><p>Something in your brain sputters back to life, and you’re able to speak again.</p><p>“No,” you blurt, “I— I’m here with my friend. He has to talk to someone.”</p><p>The second the words leave your mouth, you feel like you’ve said too much, done too much— your gaze went straight to Mando when you started talking about him, and the redheaded goddess is looking dead at him now. And that’s just what he needs, <em>more </em>attention than he’s already getting with all that beskar on his body. Mando always puts a premium on secrecy, especially during his hunts, yet here you are spouting off all his business to someone you just met. Fucking unbelievable.</p><p>“The Mandalorian is your friend?”</p><p>You couldn’t lie to this woman, not even if you wanted to, and so you find yourself nodding before you can think about what you’re doing. She looks back at him one last time, the jewels on her skimpy costume flashing, and then you’re the object of her full attention once more.</p><p>“Loosen up, honey,” she says to you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face with a soft, manicured hand. “I’ll send you a drink on me.”</p><p>The goes the way she came, disappearing more than she walks away. A few minutes later, a waitress does come by with a drink for you, but you still don’t have the nerve to turn your gaze towards the dancers. No, instead you keep your eyes essentially glued to the floor, only peeking up now and then to glance at Mando. He’s still at the bar every time you look, stock still and unbothered, almost like a statue someone affixed to the stool he’s seated on.</p><p>About the fourth time you do this, you’re startled to find that Mando’s no longer alone, accompanied now by the very same redhead that bought you a drink. She’s just as stunning at distance, perched on the stool like it was made for her, hair shining under the lights. The shape of her body had been lost on you before, but it would seem that that, too, is utter perfection. Jealousy flashes up inside you when Mando leans in close, giving her his full attention as she talks. Whatever’s being said must be important, the set of her face serious as she listens to him in turn. Eventually, the conversation wraps up, and then Mando’s coming to collect you from your table. The two of you leave together, and you’ve never been more relieved to get back to the Crest.</p><p>Though your little jaunt into Corellia’s night life was anything but, the rest of your evening is routine. You and Din collect the Child from his friend, you make dinner when you get back to the ship, and when the baby falls asleep, Mando cuts the lights and fucks you for the better part of an hour. You’re left sated and sleepy by the end of it all, already dozing off as Mando cleans his cum off your stomach with a rag.</p><p>Mando had you in his arms when you finally went out for good, but you wake up cold and alone, blinking sleep out of your eyes in the dimness of the hull. You pull on a new pair of underwear and a loose shirt, stumbling back towards the armory after a quick check on the baby. He’s still sound asleep, but you know Mando’s up and about if the noise in the back is anything to go by.</p><p>Sure enough, you find him cleaning his blaster, perched on a crate with some supplies laid out nearby.</p><p>“Hey,” is all Mando says to you, barely looking up from his work. You feel it still, though, the way he reaches out to pinch the back of your thigh as you walk to the pantry, and that makes something warm bloom in your chest.</p><p>It’s quiet for a while, just you munching on your snack as Mando works on his weapons. There’s a clink here and there, a crinkle of the bag in your hands, but neither one of you speaks at all. As you sit there and watch Mando clean and count and calibrate, you can’t help but think back on all that’s happened today, on the club and that woman who spoke to both of you. The smell of her perfume is still vivid in your mind.</p><p>The smell of her perfume, and the way Mando sat so close to her.</p><p>“That woman you met with tonight was nice,” you say slowly, trying to fish for information without being too obvious. You’d like to know if Mando knew her before tonight, and how he came to discover that club at all. There’s so much of his life that predates you, so much of his history that you’ll likely never know, and it’s times like these when that fact comes into sharp focus.</p><p>Mando doesn’t even raise his head. “She liked you.”</p><p>That makes you flush. “We didn’t even talk for five minutes.”</p><p>“She liked you anyway.” Finally, you earn yourself a glance. “Sypha’s just like that.”</p><p><em>Sypha. </em>Even her name is sexy.</p><p>“You know her?”</p><p>“She’s a friend,” Mando affirms, shrugging. “A lot of people pass through her place. She’s always good for information when I need it.”</p><p>You nod, trying to stay causal. “How did you two meet?”</p><p>“We know some of the same people. I cut her in a bounty, Maker, what, five years ago maybe? Anyway, I’ve kept in touch ever since. Like I said, she sees a lot of faces.”</p><p>That genuinely makes a lot of sense, but you know that Mando doesn’t consider just anybody a <em>friend.</em></p><p>“Have you had sex with her?”</p><p>It’s risky question, and you’ve really got no right to ask it. But since you and Mando started hooking up, you’ve always wondered what he’s comparing you to in his head, always wanted to know how you measure up to the women he’s had in the past. Call it jealousy, call it insecurity, hell, call it self-absorption— in any case, you just want to know<em>. </em>You <em>have </em>to know.</p><p>Mando’s hands go completely still, abandoning his work in his lap as he raises his head to look at you. You feel small and helpless before him, and you wonder if he knows that he had your dignity, your ego, and, most importantly, your heart clenched between his teeth. Just the slightest bit of pressure, one puncture from a sharp, dismissive word, and he could destroy all three.</p><p>“Yeah,” he finally says, “a few times. But that was back in the day.”</p><p><em>A few times</em> stings, but he’s not exactly telling you to fuck off and mind your own business. You know you should quit while you’re ahead, but you feel like a woman possessed, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.</p><p>“Did you want to hook up with her tonight?” You take a breath, think about how that might have sounded. “I mean— If I wasn’t there, if I hadn’t been waiting for you, would you have gone in the back with her?”</p><p>You know he knows what you’re talking about, Mando’s not stupid. He saw how some of the dancers would lead patrons back behind a curtain and off into another part of the club, he saw it because <em>you</em> saw it, and Mando doesn’t miss a thing.</p><p>The blaster and his tools now fully abandoned, you know Mando’s appraising you, his gaze intense even behind the helmet. An apology sits poised right on the tip of your tongue the instant you’re done speaking, because who the fuck do you think you are? Mando’s girlfriend or something? And even if you were, even if he did call you his and show you off like that, he’s a grown man. He has a past, and he has a right to have a past, regardless of what it involves. Just because you’ve had sex with a grand total of two people in your entire lifetime doesn’t justify you being upset at the fact that Mando’s known more than one woman before you, whether he paid to know them or not.</p><p>“Sypha never took me in the back, not even back then.” Mando doesn’t sound upset, but the tone of his voice has certainly changed. “And no, <em>mesh’la</em>, I didn’t want to fuck her tonight, and she didn’t want me either. All that’s long gone between us. And even if she did ask, I wouldn’t have accepted. I wouldn’t make a fool of you like that.”</p><p>You must look as confused as you feel because Mando shifts on his crate, tilting his head your way. “<em>Cyare,</em>” he says, disbelieving, “do you really think I’d do that? Fuck some other woman while you’re here waiting for me to come back?”</p><p>It feels like somebody picked your brain up and shook it, all the thing you could say jumbling up in your head. “Well, we never… <em>You</em> never… I don’t know what I thought, Mando. I’m sorry.”</p><p>He sighs, deep and tired, but you don’t think it’s directed at you. “No,” he says, “<em>I’m</em> sorry. I don’t— I’m not good at this, and I know that. I’m not good at talking, especially when it’s about you, or what we do when the baby’s asleep, or how I feel. Just… Just know that when I meet with someone, whether you’re there or not, it’s all business. You’re the only one, alright?”</p><p>Once again, you have absolutely no idea what to say. You’re not sure you could talk around the lump in your throat anyway, even if you did have the words to express how you feel. Tears burn the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to cry, deciding that that would be entirely too dramatic.</p><p>“I know the fact that I’ve been with other people worries you—”</p><p>“It’s doesn’t,” you cut, lying through your teeth. You’d sooner die than have Mando think that you judge him for his past.</p><p>“It worries you,” he presses, “but it shouldn’t. You have something that none of them have ever had, something they’ll never <em>get</em> to have, period.”</p><p>Your heart leaps in your throat, thoughts racing. “What’s that?”</p><p>“My name.”</p><p>“But everyone calls you Mando. When—”</p><p>“No,” he says, speaking over you, “my actual name. The name my parents gave me.”</p><p>You think for a moment there that you’re still sleeping, that you never woke up from your little post-sex slumber and that this is all a dream. But no, Mando really is beckoning you over, gloved hands reaching out to grab hold of your waist as you lean in close. The two of you are alone on the ship, save for your sleeping baby, but even so, the whole thing is secretive, hush hush like a ritual. And you think that’s a fitting way to treat this, a fitting way to behave as Mando reveals one of his most closely guarded personal details.</p><p>“Close your eyes,” Mando commands, speaking softly, and your heart stops as you think of the lights— one false move, one flutter of an eyelid, and you’ll see it all. You’ll see <em>him</em>.</p><p>“Mando—”</p><p>“Close your eyes, <em>mesh’la</em>,” he repeats. “I trust you.”</p><p>Those last three words alone are enough to put your body on autopilot, and so you do as you’re told, eyes slipping closed. The sound of Mando removing his helmet is unmistakable, the beskar landing with a thunk beside him. Your stomach flutters when you feel his breath on your ear, the warmth of it so familiar and yet so foreign all at the same time.</p><p>“My name is Din,” he whispers, voice softer than you ever thought it could be. “Din Djarin. You can’t call me that in front of other people, but here when we’re alone, when we’re with the Child, you can say it all you want.”</p><p>“Din,” you say, experimenting with the name, trying it out on your tongue. A hand trails up and down, up and down, up and down the inside of your thigh, and so you sigh it again. “<em>Din</em>.”</p><p>“I like how you say my name,” Din tells you, and it takes all you have to keep your eyes clamped shut. “But I’m sure I’ll like how you moan it that much more. Go lie down, I’ll be there in a minute.”</p><p>You don’t have to be told twice.</p>
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